The Valley Girl of Thedas
by tklivory
Summary: In an AU Ferelden, Dailana was not a scion of the Cousland Clan, being just another young lady in the ranks of the nobility and not even near Highever when tragedy struck. This is a series of short stories about the adventures of Dailana Not-A-Cousland, but still full of Valley Girl Goodness and proper shenanigans!
1. Like, Temptation to the Max!

_This is *not* part of the Further Adventures of Dailana Cousland, though the main characters are the same in personality and looks. This is an AU Dailana with an AU Alistair and guest starring someone else's Grey Warden (Strom Cousland, the premier womanizer in all the Lands from the wonderful mind of BSN's Schratty). Yet I enjoyed writing it immensely, and thought some among you might enjoy it. The sequel is to be written shortly, but probably won't be posted on for... ah, *ahem* reasons._

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**Like, Temptation to the Max!**

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Alistair watched his friend, concerned over the deep funk that seemed to have claimed the handsome blond's normally irrepressible nature. Strom Cousland stared dejectedly at the bottom of the mug of ale sitting on the scarred oak table before him. "What a night," his fellow Grey Warden mumbled. "Leliana won't talk to me, Morrigan is too busy with her mother's grimoire to acknowledge my existence, and even Wynne is too tired to—"

Thankfully, this last statement was interrupted by a mug of ale being slammed down next to him. "Too much thinkin', not enough drinkin', m'boy," Oghren told the young man. "If you want to wallow in the depths of yer despair regardin' the lack of soft curves in yer bedroll, you might as well do it while drunker 'n' a nug what's been dropped into an ale barrel."

Snatching at the proffered drink, Strom glared at the dwarf's evil grin. "I'm _choosing_ to be here," he declared loftily, indicating the dimly lit interior of the Gnawed Noble Tavern. "I just wanted some time to myself. It _does _happen from time to time."

"Then why bring the Chantry boy with you?" Oghren asked, eyebrow quirked. "He can't _possibly _help you have a good ol' rip-roarin' time of it. He's just a pike-twirler, doesn't have any notion of how to relieve the ol' tension, if you know what I mean."

"I'm sitting _right_ _here_, you know," Alistair said in a sarcastic tone. "But go on, ignore me like everyone else. I'll just cry into my beer in the corner."

Not missing a beat, Oghren returned his attention to the despondent Strom. "My point is that you shouldn't be sittin' here at a table if what you really want is someone to straddle the ol' saddle. Come on, just because you can't ride the fillies in yer stable doesn't mean that you can't find a wild mare ideal for a good time."

Strom brightened. "That's true."

"That's the spirit! Now get out there and find someone who can grease the ol' bronto for ya!"

Face determined, the Grey Warden quaffed his drink and rose to his feet, eyes automatically searching the main room of the tavern for prey. Nodding in satisfaction, Oghren headed back to bar, presumably for more ale.

_"Strom?!"_

Startled, the Grey Wardens turned to see who had spoken so… enthusiastically. Suddenly a lithe figure dashed across the room and threw herself into the arms of the blond Grey Warden, who closed them around her reflexively. After an extraordinarily _thorough_ hug, the woman released him and leaned back slightly. "Like, _bee tee em!_ Um, I can't be_lieve_ that you're, like, _here_! This is so totally _radical!"_

_"Dailana?"_ Strom responded incredulously. "What are _you _doing in Fereldan? I thought you were with Aedan in the court of Rivain!"

She giggled. "When Aedan suggested a trip to Denerim, I was, like,_ 'Awesome!'_ because they have, like, the best shoes and the best clothes and the best hairstylists." She trailed off with a sigh of happiness before making a sour face. "I didn't know it was going to be, like, politics and boring stuff." She help up her hands to give her fingernails a close inspection as her other hand idly traced the neckline of Strom's gambeson. "Apparenly, he's, like, upset with that Loghain loser, and, like, wanted to talk to him about, I dunno, some kind of civil war or something. Like, so totally _boring_, ya know? Anyway, like, what are you _doing _here? We'd heard that, like, something totally bogus happened at Highever. Gag me with a spoon, right?" A finger started twirling a lock of blond hair as her cerulean gaze looked up into Strom's eyes with genuine concern. "Are you, ya know, all right?"

Alistair felt his mind turn to mush beneath the onslaught of… well, he didn't know _what_ to call it, precisely, but it was certainly a _unique _mode of speech. As his brain shut down, his eyes automatically looked more closely at the woman, noting the exquisite face, the lush curves, the porcelain fair skin. Her indigo dress shone softly in the muted candlelight of the tavern, covering her from neck to toe except for…

He blinked, then blushed furiously and averted his eyes to avoid staring. _I've never seen a dress like_ that _before. _His blush deepened as he realized that he definitely wouldn't mind seeing _more_ of it. _Or is that _less?

"I'm all right, dear heart," Strom reassured her, a ghost of sorrow crossing his face. "I'll tell you all about it later." A devilish look replaced the sadness. "Care to join us?"

She clapped her hands, causing very _interesting_ things to happen in between her shoulders. _Maker!_ Alistair swore internally. "I'd _love_ to!" Without any further warning, Strom sat down and pulled her into his lap, eliciting another giggle from her. "You are _such _a studmuffin!" One hand reached around his shoulder for balance, which placed the gap in her apparel right next to Strom's grinning face. "So, like, how long are you here for?"

Unfortunately, her position also made her sit so that her… chest was facing Alistair directly. After clearing his throat – repeatedly - Alistair finally managed to say, "Do you know the young lady, Strom?"

She tittered. "Well, _duh!_ Strom is, like, my father's brother's nephew's cousin's former roommate! They, like, went to fighting school together or something like that!" She waved a hand dismissively. "What_ever_!"

Alistair's lips moved as he worked his way through the supposed 'relationship'. "So what does that make you two?"

Strom and Dailana looked at each other, each smiling maniacally. "Absolutely luscious!" they chorused, and dissolved into helpless laughter. Alistair surrendered to his inner urgings and allowed himself to stare freely at the _fascinating _motion happening right in front of his eyes. As the chortling died down, he reluctantly moved his eyes back to Strom's face, blushing as he saw the knowing glint in his friend's eyes.

"Sooooo, Strom, aren't you going to, like, introduce me to the totally gnarly hottie?" the blond vision asked innocently, staring at Alistair directly.

"Of course, my dear. Alistair, meet Dailana. Dailana, _this _is Alistair."

She leaned forward to extend her hand. Alistair hurriedly averted his eyes and grasped it clumsily. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady," he murmured as he laid a chaste kiss on her knuckles. He froze as her hand suddenly turned over and delicate fingers traced the outline of his jaw and ran over his lips before retreating. He glanced up in time to see a mischievous smile dance across her face.

"No, I think the _pleasure _is all mine," she whispered saucily, then giggled and leaned against Strom. Returning her attention to the blond man while Alistair tried to calm his pounding heart, she pouted, "You, like, never answered my question, you naughty boy, you. Um, how long are you, like, in Denerim?"

With a sigh of distinct regret, Strom said, "Not _nearly _long enough, if I recognize the look in your eye."

She chewed her lower lip delicately then licked her lips slowly, adding a glistening sheen to their fullness. Moaning softly, Alistair reached for his drink and hurriedly began gulping the welcome coolness to stem the building internal fire. "But you're, like, here for at least the night, right? I mean, it wouldn't be, like, _fair_, to just, like, _leave!_ I mean, we haven't seen each other or done the mattress tango in, like, _forever!_"

Ale sprayed all over the surface of the oak table as Alistair spluttered helplessly. "Why, Alistair," Strom asked in mock innocence, "whatever is the matter?"

"Nothing!" he said hurriedly, quickly pulling out a handkerchief to mop the worst of it off of his clothes. "Nothing whatsoever!"

Before he could stand up, an imperious hand reached out. "Can I, like, borrow that hankie, my boss of hot?"

"Naturally, my lady," he said automatically, holding out the piece of cloth. She took it and slowly began to wipe at her exposed skin. Alistair's mouth immediately went dry as his eyes watched the small motions, his mind relentlessly replacing _her _hand with _his _hand, or, better yet, with his—

Shaking his head to clear the scandalous thoughts away, he almost shot to his feet before realizing that that would be a _very bad idea._

"Are you _sure_ you're all right?" Strom persisted, mouth twitching dangerously. "You seem awfully _restless _all of a sudden."

"I'm _fine!" _he insisted. "No problem! Just thinking about what we need to do tomorrow!"

Dailana shrugged, causing his eyes to bounce. "What_ever_. _I'd_ rather, like, figure out what we're gonna do _tonight_._"_ Arching an eyebrow, she looked at Strom. "So, do you, like, have a room? I've got a totally sweet setup in the rockin' house Aedan is renting, and he'll probably be, like, yelling at that Loghain dude until the sun comes up." Her eyes flickered to Alistair, then back to Strom. "Um, I'd really, like, _love _some company. I imagine that two totally strapping studmuffins like you hotties could, like, make sure I get home, like, totally safe and then, like, ya know, make sure I don't have any nasty bogus nightmares."

Strom's eyes also flickered to Alistair, a familiar gleam lighting them. "I think that is a _fantastic _idea. Let's go." He gently propelled Dailana to her feet before rising himself. Looking at Alistair, he said, "Come on."

"M-me?" Alistair stammered, aware that his face was excruciatingly crimson at the moment. "But—"

Dailana came over and leaned down in front of him. "Any friend of Strom's is a _friend_ of mine," she said a husky voice. "Besides, the rooms here are, like, totally grody and bogus. My bath is, like, _waaaay _more comfortable."

"Don't you mean rooms?" he asked weakly, unable to look anywhere else except where he was _obviously _supposed to look.

She wriggled slightly, eyes dancing. "Nope!" she said cheerfully. Grasping his hand, she pulled him, unresisting, to his feet.

Strom clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go. I'm sure a bath will do all of us a lot of good." Under his breath, he muttered for Alistair's ears, "Maker knows we _both _need some tension relieved after that business with Flemeth."

"But you know I've never—" he began in an equally low tone.

The hand on his shoulder tightened, telling him to be silent. "Alistair, I love you like a brother, but sometimes…" He sighed, then grinned suddenly. "My brother of the Grey, sometimes you really need to _lighten up._" Looking at the softly curved form waiting anxiously for them, finger twirling in her soft golden locks, he said, "_Please _tell me that you were thinking of more than your handkerchief when she was using it."

"I'm inexperienced, not dead," Alistair hissed.

"And I'm saying it's time to _do something about that."_ He nodded towards Dailana. "So let's _go._"

Alistair hesitated a moment longer. Suddenly Oghren's mocking words echoed through his mind. Mouth settling in a thin line of determination, he said, "Right. I'm _not _just a pike-twirler."

"You're not? Ohhh," Dailana's face fell in a mock disappointment. Going over to stand between Strom and Alistair, she linked her arms through their elbows and started towards the door, pulling the Grey Wardens with her. Leaning towards Alistair's ear, she whispered mischievously, "You will be when _I'm _through with you."

For the first time since they had staggered, almost dead, from the Korcari Wilds, covered in dragon's blood, Alistair grinned. _I could get used to this._

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_Bee tee em_- BTM, or By The Maker (Thedas equivalent of OMG, or ohemgee)

_NOTE: Strom is completely and utterly the creation of the wonderful mind of BSN member Schratty. Dailana stole him for this story because he is also a totally radical gnarly hottie that she wanted to meet and... *ahem* Let's just leave it at that._


	2. A Tale of Many Wardens

_This is a flat out AU Dragon Age story. It stars **Lenya** (the main character from _Of Elves and Human_**s** here on - thanks, Merilsell!), **Dailana**, **Strom Cousland** (from _Like, Temptation to the Max_), and at least an honorable mention of the other Origins aaaaand a couple of other well known characters from elsewhere. It arose out of a (silly) series of remarks on Tumblr about 'what would happen if all the Origins survived?' It's not quite that epic, but at least there are multiple Wardens here._

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Alistair frowned at the piece of paper in his hand, then looked up at Anora. "You don't think this gives an unfair advantage to human merchants over elven ones? I still think that taxing forty merchants of both races would bring in more revenue than taxing twenty hum-"

His comment was overridden by the door slamming open, revealing a blond elf with a sheathed dagger in one hand, its hilt in the other, and murder in her eyes. Ignoring the small painting next to the door that wobbled and fell to the ground, Anora quickly gathered up her papers with aplomb. "Ah, yes, Alistair, I see your point. I'll go take care of it while you handle your affairs." She hesitated a moment, then leaned down and whispered, "You _did _send that message to Strom, right? He'll come? To Denerim, I me-"

"Out!" the elf shouted, and Anora scooted out. Even the prospect of a few nights with Strom weren't worth risking the wrath of Alistair's Dalish love.

"Len, dear," Alistair said weakly. "How good to see-"

"Don't you _dear_ me!" she hissed, flinging the door behind her as she stalked over to his desk. His hands instinctively shot down to protect himself as she came to halt next to his chair, fists still clenched around that dagger. "I thought it was all sorted out! Why is _she_ here?"

"All what was sorted out?" Judging from the deepening red on her neck, that was an insufficient answer. He grimaced and stood, carefully edging out of range of her deadly blade. "Look, I _know_ what we talked about, but Weisshaupt assigned Strom to be Ferelden's Warden-Commander and-"

The door was again flung open, this time by a flushed Anora. "Why didn't you tell me that?" she demanded. Abruptly realizing that she had exposed her own eavesdropping, and, judging by the sound of Lenya's dagger slipping loose from its sheath, that she was not particularly welcome in this conversation, she backed up a step or two. "Pardon. I didn't mean to interrupt your meeting." Hastily she turned and began to move down the corridor, stopping only when she ran into a figure in blue and silver armor.

Alistair sighed as he watched Strom thoroughly molest Anora in the hallway, though admittedly his head tilted slightly as he filed away _that_ particular technique for use later. _I didn't know dresses had holes there..._ _My goodness, I've never seen her so red._ _Still..._ Moving to the doorway, he cleared his throat and ventured, "Ah, Strom? Remember what we talked about before, about-" He faltered as Strom ignored him, pushing the Queen up against the wall and reaching up to untie the strings that held her bodice closed. "Strom!" he protested, a bit more forcefully. "Not in the hallway! You promised!"

The tall Warden pulled away from the now cherry-red and panting human woman and threw a cheeky grin at Alistair. "Well, if you insist." With a grunt, he picked up the woman, who let out only a soft moan, and threw her over his shoulder, charging down the corridor with an enthusiasm his friend only reserved for... well, for drinking and sex. Alistair watched them disappear into a convenient room, trying to ignore the wistful glances of the servants that happened to see them and wincing as Anora started to, as another Cousland put it, _shout out the siren song of smexiness._

He was quite unprepared, therefore, when two small hands gripped his waist and pulled him back into the study. His heart skipped a beat for several different reasons when he looked into her green eyes and saw the rage in them. Even as he opened his mouth to explain that he had only received the note about Strom's arrival yesterday himself, she hauled him down into a deep kiss. He found himself pushed back against the desk and flattened on its surface as she dug at his belt, breaking away only when it resisted her efforts. "I'm _not_ going to let that stupid _shem'alas_ get more action than me!" she said fiercely when he started to push himself up.

Maker, this was _hot._ Still, being inside a room only qualified as _not the hallway_ if the door was closed. "Perhaps we should-"

Lenya finally gave up on the belt - since she had broken the buckle in her frenzied haste - and just moved straight to his buttons. "Shut up, _atish'an._ Now is _not _the time to talk."

Alistair let his head fall back as her small hand slipped through the opening in his pants and began exploring. _Maker-_

"Ooo, that looks _totally_ fun," a bright voice said from the doorway. "The Prince of Hotness and the Serpent Slayer. Or would that, like, be a _bad_ thing for the horizontal tango?"

The hand was quickly removed, to Alistair's _vast_ disappointment, as Lenya vaulted across the room to stand in a bundle of furious energy in front of Strom's fellow traveler. "This is _not_ a party!" she hissed. "And even if it were, you are _not_ invited!"

Alistair scrambled to his feet, trying to restore himself to order, a matter made more difficult when Dailana issued a highly effective pout and crossed her arms under her mostly-exposed bosom. _Where does she _find_ those dresses?_

Dailana tossed her blond curls back with an exasperated sigh. "You, like, _totally_ need to take a chill pill. It is _so_ not my fault that the losers in Loserville decided that, ya know, Strom was dipping his stick in too many places." She rolled her eyes. "Like riding his dragon is anything but, ya know, totally, _awesomely_ bodacious." Her blue eyes met the elf's green eyes as a small smile played over her mouth. "But then I think the Prince of Hotness-"

"Ah, King, actually," Alistair interjected, then wondered _why_ he had when they both glared at him.

"-King of Smexiness has _probs_ nailed you enough to, like, at least-"

Alistair again broke in desperately as Lenya determinedly reached once more for the dagger she'd discarded earlier. "Dailana, how good to see you, did anyone assign you a room?" he said all in a rush, giving up on complete decency and just trying to separate the two women.

"Do not interfere, _dear,_" Lenya gritted through her teeth.

"Seriously, though, _what_ is your _prob_lem?" Dailana idly reached up and started twirling her hair around a perfectly lacquered finger. Incongruously, at that precise moment, the loud feminine cry of, _"Maker!" _echoed down the hall, accompanied by Strom's very distinctive groan . "It's not like I, ya know, did the beast with two backs with him more than once, yah?" She paused. "Well, more than one night. And day. Or was it a week?" She shrugged. "Whatever. I, like, lost count after the bed broke."

"That is _it!_" Lenya grated, and before Alistair realized what was going on, she'd launched herself at Dailana, tackling her flat onto the floor of the corridor. The sounds of ripping cloth and angry screeching echoed through the halls as they rolled around throwing epithets at each other. Alistiar dashed into the corridor and was trying to figure out how to best intervene when a hand landed on his shoulder, holding him back.

"Don't tell me you're going to break up _that_," Strom said with a lustful gleam in his eye. "Ooo, look at that, Dailana's dress got torn _just_ where I thought it would.

He stared at the shirtless man who was still settling his pants around his hips. "What about Anor- Never mind," he grunted, recognizing that satisfied expression. Anora was likely being transferred, completely unconscious, up to her suite to sleep off a full session of Strom Cousland. "And you shouldn't be saying that about Dailana, should you? I mean, I thought she was your cousin or something."

"No, I'm her father's brother's nephew's cousin's former roommate. She _married_ my cousin, but _he's_ rather busy with that elf he met and fell head over heels for in Kirkwall after the Champion skipped town with that pirate."

"Elf?" Alistair dredged up the memories of his visit to Kirkwall and his meeting with Marian Hawke. "You mean Fenris? The broody one? I remember him." He grinned. "So Isabela got Hawke, did she? Good for her."

"One good piece of ass deserves another," Strom agreed, then shrugged. "Anyway, Dailana really wanted to see you again - after all, it's been a while since the Blight - so, here we are. Oh, and word to the wise: don't sleep with the First Warden's lovers next time you visit Weisshaupt. He seems to take it personally for some reason."

"I'll keep that in mind," Alistair said with a grin, unable to stop the chuckle. Suddenly realizing that the sound of the fight had died down, he glanced at the two women, where a now topless Dailana and a mostly-bare Lenya were slowly realizing that they were the center of attention for quite a few avid onlookers. "Ah, I think a rescue would not be amiss. What if Len accidentally breaks one of Dailana's fingernails?"

Strom immediately sobered. "_Maker_. I didn't think of that." He grunted. "Where's Amell when you need him?" They immediately stepped forward to begin the extraction process. "I think we could use some good arcane shields right about now."

"Off with Morrigan, wherever _she _is, I suppose. Haven't gotten a letter from him since he said he was going off to look for her. Speaking of protection," he said as he closed in on Lenya while Strom settled his hands rather cavalierly around Dailana, "I got a letter from Sereda. Being a Paragon Queen seems to suit her well."

Strom extracted Lenya's fingers from their place buried in Dailana's own blond tresses, ignoring the squeals as his other hand wandered rather inappropriately as he did so. "Faren still with her? I always told you Brosca'd be good for her."

"Yeah, he is. _Someone_ has to keep the Deshyrs in line in those situations when a Queen simply can't- Ow!" He winced as Lenya's fist hit him with her surprising strength square in the jaw. "Hey!" he protested.

"It's your fault I'm in this situation in the first place," she grumped, though she grudgingly saw the sense of allowing him to pick her up and shield her from casual scrutiny. "You and your stupid _arrangements_."

"Look, we've discussed this before," he said in a placating tone of voice as he headed away from the servants and to the suites where she stayed when she was in the Palace. "I have certain obligations-"

"_Screw_ your obligations if it means you get to screw anyone else!" she said fiercely. "I don't care what you did during the Blight when we were all tripping over each other every night!" Her ears flamed a bit red at the memories, but she quickly recovered from the momentary embarrassment as he wisely refrained from even _mentioning_ Darrian Tabris, Alim Surana, immense amounts of dwarven mead and _Lenya being incandescently angry at Alistair_. "Well, I _mostly_ don't care. But I'm not letting you near her again!"

He chuckled as he paused in front of the door to her suite and carefully reached down to open it without dropping her. "That's not what you said right after the Blight, you know," he chided gently.

Her jaw set stubbornly. "I. Don't. Care. You're _my_ King of Smexiness, by the Dread Wolf, and I mean to keep it that way!"

He laughed out loud as he kicked the door shut behind him and put her on her feet. "You're absolutely adorable, love." Before she could get out of reach, he pulled her closer to him and laved his tongue over her ear, smiling in satisfaction as she shivered in his arms. "Have I told you that lately?"

"N-no," she said. "D-dammit, I told you not to do that when we argue."

"Then let's stop arguing," he murmured, voice husky, "so I can do it again."

Before she could respond, a door he would have _sworn _was always kept locked suddenly opened, and Strom poked his head in. Alistair's eyes narrowed as he noticed the red marks, presumably left by teeth and nails, that darkened his friend's shoulders and chest. "Why didn't you tell me the baths were so big in the guest quarters, you sly dog? Too bad we didn't have this during the Blight - what epic _nights_ we would have had." His eyes gleamed appreciatively as he looked Lenya's small form up and down.

Before she could retort - though it would have lacked a certain _fire_, since Alistair's hand was now shamelessly molesting her completely irresistible buttocks, a voice called to them from behind Strom, echoing off the marble walls of the bathing chamber. "So? Are they, like, coming or what?" A giggle could be heard, and Dailana added, "I mean, are they, ya know, going to join us? I suppose coming is, like, unavoidable either way."

Strom licked his lips as his hand ran down his abdomen and disappeared behind the doorframe. "Come on, for old time's sake?" he asked. "Same rules as during the Blight?"

Alistair glanced down at Lenya, then back at Strom. "Let's leave the past in the past." As Strom shrugged and started to close the door leading to the baths, he called out, "Good to see you, though!"

He didn't hear Strom's response - if there was one - as Lenya dragged his face down and claimed him with a searing kiss. The rest of the day blurred away in the heat of her kisses and her body, and Alistair once again learned why he was the luckiest man in Thedas.

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_So, not the typical Dailana story. Again, many, many thanks go out to Merilsell for letting me run away with Lenya for a little bit. If you liked it, please drop a line so I can let Lenya know she's popular no matter where she pops up!_


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